Me, Marilyn, and the Island of Lost Souls

I’m with Matt, Remy, and my Mom and Stepdad on Catalina Island. Gorgeous. Very islandy. We took the ferry from Long Beach early this morning, with front row seats on the top deck. I think it does something biologically to gaze out on blue sky and blue sea. I saw my first dolphins! Dozens of them from the ferry, leaping. I told Matt that I’ve seen so many dolphin tattoos and trinkets over the years, I kind of forgot they’re an actual, incredible animal.

We had an incredible lunch (scallops, two kinds of shrimp cocktail) and then rented a golf cart to see the whole island. There’s some kind of old casino from the 20s, very Art Nouveau, and a botanical garden. We’re in an amazing little inn, with a balcony and view of the water. For dinner, Matt and I (and Remy) went back down to the waterfront and had more incredible seafood near the water. We saw more dolphins (the innkeeper said a pod more than a thousand) from our balcony.

Apparently, there are bison all over the island, left over from some long ago movie shoot– the studio couldn’t be bothered to take them back off the island. According to local lore, there are also perhaps some wild black panthers running around– I saw this old movie poster today. Apparently, the movie has to do with turning black panthers into women?? There’s something about these old movies, and strange connections between “science” (or the promise of science?) and sexuality. Strange.

Last year, the museum on the Island hosted an exhibit called, “Before she was Marilyn: Norma Jean Baker on Catalina Island.” I’ve never been in thrall to Monroe, but there’s something really poignant and compelling about the idea of “her year on the island as a newlywed teen.” I recently read that when all of her belongings went up for auction, it was noted that she didn’t actually have that many clothes or luxury items– but she had a lot of books, especially first editions, and had spent a lot of time trying to educate herself. There’s something so American about that, and equally American in that no one knows or remembers that.